Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) (3 page)

So anyway, that’s it from your lonely son. Tomorrow it looks like we might actually go somewhere if Ace gives me the go-ahead. I’ll try to keep you posted if anything, and I mean ANYTHING actually happens.

Love, your son, Delmar

“That sure was informative,” Robert Hassel said with a grin to his wife of many years, Agnes, as he put down the printed letter. They were talking about their son, Delmar Eagleman whom they had adopted after his abusive guardian brother, Dorn, had been killed while a fugitive from the law. Delmar had joined the Galactic Axia Troopers and was now away at Flight Training and Survey School on Rodar, one of primary planets of the Axia. “Our boy is going space-happy.”

“Don’t be so hard on him, Robert,” Agnes scolded. “Don’t you remember how eager we were at that age?”

“Of course I can’t,” Robert quipped. “Short term memory loss.”

“Delmar did have a point about that computer, Ert,” Agnes went on, ignoring her husband’s stab at a joke. “Ert used to drop us a line as well but it’s sure been quiet from that direction.”

“He probably got in trouble again with Professor Angle,” Robert said. “Delmar might have a point.”

“From what I know of Ert from our correspondence, that is very likely, but not with the professor,” Agnes said. “It seemed to me that Professor Angle actually encouraged Ert to go out and explore.”

“Yes, but he has a strange way of exploring,” Robert quipped. “Not to mention how he leaves things afterwards.”

Agnes could only agree with Robert’s assessment.
Boys and computers
, she thought.
Can’t live with ‘em and ya can’t live without ‘em.

∞∞∞

Ian Cahill reached up to his nav board and punched in the coordinates for the next leg of his rounds. He glanced at the readout on the screen and decided to tweak it a bit.
No need to take unnecessary chances
, he thought as he vectored his route closer to secure planets. Hopping directly from one planet to another was one thing. Cutting directly through known hazard zones was another.

That was becoming more and more of a problem lately out here away from the normal shipping lanes. It seemed that the Red-tails had stumbled onto areas still frequented by humans but less patrolled by the Axia. That made for better pickings for the raiders and higher risks of being eaten for the humans. Ian Cahill did not like the equation. Sure, he had used fear to whittle a trade or two, but right now he was thinking of his own skin. An extra half day was worth the peace of mind it would bring.

Finally satisfied with his plot, Ian punched the engage button and the
Cahill Express
vectored automatically to the new course. After watching the indicators, Ian sighed happily to himself and got up out of his control chair. He liked having an automated ship. It allowed him the freedom to be alone and prepare for the next customer or trader.

Going back to what served as a galley on the ship, Ian opened a drawer and pulled out a tea bag.

Some things just can’t be duplicated or synthesized
, he thought. Tea, and for those who liked it, coffee, were among these. And from a few female friends, he heard that hot chocolate was another, although he didn’t notice any difference himself.

Dropping the tea bag into a cup, he turned on the heat beneath the zero gravity teapot he had rigged up. Even if by some rare occurrence the
Express
lost all power and gravity, the little pot wouldn’t let any water escape into the cabin. It took some tricky engineering but Ian was proud of his accomplishment. Maybe someday, when he had time, he would market the device.

It took less than half a minute and the water was ready, the indicator light on the teapot flashing with seeming eagerness. Ian set his cup under the spout and turned the little tap on the pot. Steaming hot water at just the temperature he liked poured into the cup. As it hit the tea bag, he began to smell the precious tea start to brew. He was definitely looking forward to this cup.

Taking the steaming cup, Ian absent-mindedly swirled the tea bag as he carried it with him to his worktable. He set the cup on a warmer pad (which also secured it against zero gravity—another of Ian’s ideas) and turned on the light, sitting down in his chair.

This was the real nerve center of the
Cahill Express
. This was where the decisions that affected his future were made. Ian was in his element here.

Using a keyboard, Ian punched up the ship’s manifest on a monitor screen set above it. He keyed in the code for the acquisition list so he could review and research his latest trades and purchases. Although a short list compared to inventory aboard, the acquisition list held a promise that made him smile. The last few stops had been good ones except for that one character on Cyan that had refused to honor his agreement at the last minute. But other than that, Ian was generally pleased.

Ian checked the list, and using the automatic conveyor system brought the first item out for inspection. A small locker door opened beside the table and he reached in and brought the item out. In this case, it was a set of early Galactic Axia history manuscripts—a popular item to a certain class of egghead scholarly collectors, so they stayed relatively stable in value.

It was a good trade. What Ian hoped to do was peddle them to someone willing to pay more for minor, and to the casual observer, insignificant differences. A slightly different script here, an unusual illustration there, could make this set worth many more credits. His research prior to trading had paid off. The set was rare enough to be marketable to a higher class of clientele.
Maybe some egghead on Mica or one of the other educational planets
, he thought.

Turning to his keyboard again, Ian input the specific details on the set of books into the file. He paused and considered how to phrase the information to tickle the fancy of some wealthy collector. Historians would be interested too, but they tended to pay less than private collectors.

Typing again, Ian used his considerable marketing experience to pitch his product. When he was finished, he hit the save button which would place it in the file for later transmission. As soon as that file was fleshed out to Ian’s satisfaction, he would transmit it to the trading hub computer net for circulation among the outer planets.

Someone somewhere would be interested. Ian was sure of it. But what he really hoped for was more than one buyer. Then he could start a bidding war between them and the price would climb dramatically.

Ian always kept this in mind when trading or purchasing. If an item were too rare, though the value may be very high, the bidders would be very few. As a result, it tended to depress the price potential. A slightly more common item was worth more if traded correctly than the most expensive artifact available wrongly traded.

Finishing up with the books, Ian returned them to the conveyor system so they could be returned to safe storage. While the system secured them, he glanced up at the control remote readout board above his work area. The telltales showed the ship on course and at the speed he had programmed earlier. He looked at the remote detector screen readout and felt a chill run up his spine. There was the beginning of a red trace on the far edge of the screen.

Ian hit the auto lock-down switch and all his of automated systems started securing themselves while he ran for the control chair. In a fluid motion, he leapt into it and secured this safety harness. Looking at the main detector screen, he brought up the
Express’s
weapons system while he plotted the location of the Red-tail ship.

Taking the
Cahill Express
off automatic, Ian changed vectors away from a field of space debris to see if the Red-tail was alone. The red trace on the screen grew stronger as the Red-tail ship changed its course, but no second, or even worse, no third trace appeared. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had tangled with Red-tails a few times before. The
Express
was a freighter, not a combat cruiser. He could handle one ship. Two was trouble. More than that and you had better be on good speaking terms with the Unseen One.

Ian shoved the throttle bar and the
Cahill Express
lived up to its name. It took a few seconds for the Red-tail to accelerate to match his speed but it gave Ian just that many more seconds to play with.

“Now I’ve got you,” Ian said aloud, watching the detector screen. Swinging his ship around a stray bit of rubble, he abruptly stopped and reversed course, which caught the Red-tail off guard as the
Express
zoomed past him in the opposite direction. Now the Red-tail was in his sights.

“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

He aimed the main ray of his ship and depressed the firing stud. A bolt of energy leaped out and neatly sliced into the drive section of the Red-tail ship. Its ability to maneuver destroyed, it could only continue on its original vector via momentum. Since Ian had fired from behind, the Red-tail’s weapons were useless. Ian knew they were fixed facing forward. For some reason, the Red-tails did not mount rear-firing weapons on their scout ships.

Ian approached the disabled enemy ship, careful to keep its blasted drive section between him and its weapons.

“Now comes the tricky part,” Ian said as he aimed his smaller rays at particular points on the Red-tail ship. Weeks learning all he could about Red-tail ships at an Axia seminar was time well spent. What he had in his sights was one of their typical one-man patrollers, unrefined for decades. What the Red-tails lacked in sophistication they made up for in mass. This lack of innovation gave the Axia and humanity a much-needed edge.

The
Cahill Express
crept closer as Ian made sure of where he was targeting. Finally, he pinpointed the power hub of the ship and fired his small ray. Its beam lashed out and neatly fried the distribution hub for the enemy’s weapons and communications systems. In one hit, he had turned an enemy space raider into so much inert metal.

“Nicely done,” sounded a voice over Ian’s comm.

He recognized the voice as human so he knew he was not speaking to the Red-tail. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Axia Cruiser
Doral
. That was some neat maneuvering and shooting there. Think we’ll try it sometime.”

“Be my guest,” Ian said. “Thought of it a while back but this is the first chance I’ve had to try it.”

“You sure put on a nice show,” replied the
Doral
. “We tracked this Red-tail to this sector and then lost him in the debris. Guess he thought he had lost us. He only showed up when he spotted you.”

Ian secured the
Cahill’s
weapons systems. “I didn’t pick you up either. Thought I was out here all lonesome like.”

“This isn’t our usual patrol area, but like I said, he led us out here,” the
Doral
replied. “Now, do you want the prize or shall we do the honors?”

“You can have the prisoner if that’s what you’re asking,” Ian answered. The thought of a captive Red-tail on the
Express
was something he did not want to contemplate. Best leave them to the Axia. They were far better equipped to handle them.

“However, I claim salvage interest in what’s left of the ship.”

“It’s all yours after we pull its logs and records,” the
Doral
returned. “If you want to, you can dock and come aboard while the boarding team tidies up.”

“Just show me where.”

A few seconds later, Ian saw the cruiser hove into view and a green light start blinking above a docking hatch.

Ian maneuvered the
Express
around and brought the ship up to match vectors with the much larger cruiser. It only took a few spins of the axis ball to bring the ships together for a secure lock.

As soon as Ian heard the docking clamps lock down, he powered down the drive and unstrapped from the control chair.

Striding back to his work area, he unlocked the system and retrieved a portable pad outlining what he had for sale or trade. This cruiser was an opportunity too good to pass up. If it was typical, its crew had been on station for a while and would welcome almost any distraction. Out of the four-hundred or so crew on board, he should have no trouble finding a few paying customers.

Ian unsecured his hatch and glanced at the lock’s telltales. All were green. Opening the airlock, he was greeted by a trooper-second.

“Welcome aboard,” the trooper said as Ian stepped across the threshold.

Ian didn’t answer. Unlike some traders, he always appreciated the Axia and its ships. He wasn’t wild about being on this large ship, especially since he knew the captain had the right to inspect his manifest and inventory for contraband merchandise the trader might be transporting from one star system to another. Then again, he couldn’t pass the opportunity to unload a few trinkets and baubles onto any unsuspecting crewmen.

“The captain welcomes you to the bridge,” the trooper said when Ian had cleared both locks. He then locked both ship airlocks so that they were independent once more. That way in an emergency, they could always disengage from the
Cahill Express
without risking the safety of the
Doral
.

Ian waited while the trooper secured his station. When he was finished, he turned to the trader. “This way,” he said, leading Ian through a bulkhead hatch.

An extended trip through much of the ship eventually led them to the control room of the cruiser
Doral
. When they entered, the captain of the cruiser swiveled his chair around and stood to greet his guest.

“Garrison Kingston,” the captain said, offering his hand.

“Ian Cahill,” Ian replied as he returned the grasp.

“Again, that sure was some nice shooting back there,” the captain offered. “Usually, we see nothing but an expanding cloud of atoms.”

“That’s usually all I want to see.”

“They’re going aboard, Captain,” a trooper said from the comm.

“Shall we watch?” Captain Kingston asked. He motioned toward the forward view ports. He and Ian crossed the bridge to where they could see the Red-tail ship and the cruiser shuttle that was now alongside it. They could clearly see the suited troopers opening the Red-tail ship and going in.